


Good Love

by TheBasilRathbone



Category: Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Exes to Lovers, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, M/M, Make Up, Post-Series, Soulmates, Trust Issues, it all works out in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 19:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30009963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBasilRathbone/pseuds/TheBasilRathbone
Summary: Kimmy doesn't make it in time to the church to tell Mikey that Titus will be singing on Broadway instead of at his wedding, and so Mikey ends up married to Andrew and Titus ends up with a growing career and no one to share it with.But despite a bit more time and heartache, they end up back together. It's always been inevitable.
Relationships: Titus Andromedon/Mikey Politano
Comments: 1





	Good Love

**Author's Note:**

> I know that literally no one will read this because this fandom is non-existent, so this one's just for me. 
> 
> -
> 
> Title taken from Beyoncé's "Hold Up."

Opening night is his favourite night of any show. There’s always a party with food after, everybody brings him flowers, and there is never, ever a matinee the next day.

It’s perfect.

So after he takes his final bows and acts humble and embarrassed by all of the congratulations, he fights his way through the narrow wings and back to his dressing room.

He expects the praise and kind words, of course. What he doesn’t expect is to see a pair of slumped shoulders and a familiar leather jacket slink down the hall in front of him and towards the back exit.

“Mikey?”

The man in the jacket freezes, and slowly spins to reveal his ex, looking annoyingly unaged and endearingly nervous.

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh…” he blushes, and they both look down at a small bouquet of flowers in his hands, which he quickly tucks behind his back. “I just…Jacqueline let me back, actually. It’s kind of a long story, but. Anyway. I just…wanted to say congratulations on the show, man.”

“Mm.” Titus waits a moment, but when Mikey doesn’t say anything more, he gestures to the hidden flowers. “For moi?”

He looks embarrassed, and rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably for a moment before thrusting out the small bouquet. "Sorry. I know it's not...I was gonna put them in your dressing room just as a congrats on the show, but then, you know." He made a shy gesture into the doorway of the room, and Titus spots the other gaudy bouquets crowding the makeup counter of his dressing room. Mikey’s little handful of daisies and carnations were dwarfed by the basket crammed with white roses from Jacqueline (good, if Jacqueline had given him a little bouquet of daisies on opening night, he’d have fired her on the spot), but Titus accepts them with a smile all the same.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

Mikey stares down at his shoes, scuffing the cheap leather on the paint-spotted cement floor. “Nah, you’re just sayin’ that to be nice. They’re not as nice as those, from…?”

“Oh, nobody special. Just a guy I’ve been seeing.” He lies, snatching the card from Jacqueline’s bouquet and pretending to read it fondly before tucking it into his breast pocket. If Mikey doesn’t believe him, he doesn’t let on.

“You were great. The show was great! I was a little bit confused in the middle, there, when that guy was playing the accordion and no one was talking, but I figured it out by the end. You were amazing. As always.”

He knows he was, he’d worked his ass off for this part, but he can’t really say that, and so he just makes a humble little noise of protest without really protesting at all. “Well, thank you.”

Mikey gives him a hesitant little smile, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cheap jeans. “I’m real proud of you, Titus. Real proud. I tell all the guys at work that I used to know you whenever we see you on posters and billboards and stuff.”

 _Used to know._ That shouldn't hurt as much as it did. And when was the last time someone had told him that they were proud of him? Honestly _proud?_

“And you should hear my brothers. Always razzing me, about…you know. How I used to go out with a movie star and stuff. They loved you in the new _Fast and the Furious._ I didn’t even know they were up to fifteen.”

“Oh, they just skipped right over thirteen and fourteen. There’s so many of them, no one would notice.”

It’s a bit painful just to see him after all this time, and Titus is too tired from all of that standing and singing and standing-while-singing to make pleasantries.

“Mikey, what are you doing here?”

“I told you, I just came to see the show. Everybody’s been talkin’ about it, I had to wait in line forever just to get tickets.”

“Mm. And where is, um, Andres?”

He expects another sheepish smile or a blush, but Mikey’s face just falls. “Andrew? Oh. Uh, we aren’t together. Since last year, actually. Divorce was final in May.”

He should be happy. He always thought that ‘I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me’ thing is bullshit. What does he care if someone else is happy if it has nothing to do with him? But some horrible part of him actually does want Mikey to be happy, even if it’s with his sort of handsome husband. He at least doesn’t want him to look so sad. “So, what, you thought you’d come here and bring me flowers as some sort of _grand gesture?_ ” He sweeps his hand in front of him to illustrate his point, a bit thrilled at the thought.

This time, Mikey does turn red. “No! No, I’m not…I wouldn’t…”

Fuck, that was not the reaction he wanted. “Oh, good. Just wanted to make sure, you know. Save you any awkwardness.”

“No, I...you know. I know you’re out of my league, Titus.”

Had his ego allowed it, he would have laughed. Out of Mikey’s league? Mikey Politano? The only person alive who had seen him at his worst, his most embarrassing, his most ill and unkept and unshowered and still loved him? Instead, he tosses a long strand of imaginary hair over his shoulder and says, “Honey, I’m out of everybody’s league.”

“Damn right,” Mikey grins, standing up just a little bit straighter. “I mean, you’re a big movie star now, Titus. And on Broadway. I’m sure you’ve got guys after you all the time. But…the real reason I came tonight was…well, I wanted to apologize. If I…hurt you. I didn’t mean to, Titus. I’d never want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Mikey had ripped his heart out, torn it to bits, and devoured it like a white, middle-aged man eating wings at Hooters, but he wasn’t about to admit that out loud.

“I…had lunch with Kimmy, today. She’s in town doin’ some interviews for her new book. Anyway, we got to talkin’ about me and Andrew, and I said that I should have known that it wouldn’t work out. I invited you to sing at my wedding sort of…I dunno. Hopin’ something might happen. You know, that you might…interrupt and bring me back to life like-“

“-that hot statue in the _Like a Prayer_ video, yeah.” He isn’t sure what’s more surprising, that Kimmy and Mikey are still on friendly enough terms to ‘get lunch’ or that he had been right all along about Mikey’s motivations in inviting him to the wedding. Obviously the latter, Kimmy can and has made friends on the S train. “But why are you _here,_ Mikey? It’s been years. Why now?”

“Kimmy…I made a comment about thinkin’ it was a sign, when you couldn’t make the wedding. You know, like I should just…give up and move on. ‘Cause you said you’d do anything it took to win me back, but then you didn’t do anything-“

“Bitch!” He can’t help it. It just comes spilling out. “I did so many things!”

Mikey holds up his hands placatingly. “That’s what Kimmy said. Like, almost word for word, actually. And I know that now. I just…didn’t know it at the time. Guess wishin’ you’d show up and wreck the wedding was kind of a sign that I shouldn’t’ve married a different guy, huh? But that’s old news. Look at you! On Broadway, name up in lights-“

“-well-“

“-name on the Playbill, at least. That’s a big deal! Anyway, like I said, I just wanted to see you and say that I’m sorry. That I didn’t...pick up on stuff back then. I mean, everythin’ worked out for you, clearly, but. I’m sorry if I hurt you. And I was hopin’…maybe we could be friends? I mean, if you have enough time for a regular, non-show-biz friend.”

He sways back and forth as though unable to decide. “I suppose,” he says finally, “that we can try being friends.”

* * *

It’s dangerous how quickly he gets used to sleeping beside Mikey.

He’s been away for three months filming in the Arctic Circle, and he’d insisted on coming to Mikey’s shoebox walk-up instead of his own Manhattan apartment. He’d said it was because Mikey’s place was closer to the airport and he couldn’t bear to be away any longer, but really it was because the heat in Mikey’s place was broken and stuck on _broil_ and he was pretty sure his internal organs still needed to defrost.

They’d been apart way longer than they’d been together the first time, now, but nothing much has changed. Besides, of course, Mikey getting some more experience, but he’s only reaping the benefits from that.

Their “friendship” had lasted about seven minutes, until Titus had stuck his tongue down Mickey’s throat in his dressing room and they’d ended up tangled up on the too-small sofa.

 _Casual,_ he’d blurted out as quickly as he could. _Let’s keep things light and breezy._

He didn’t want light and breezy. He wanted Mikey. But keeping things casual meant that the end of their relationship wouldn’t devastate him. That was the plan, at least. But then Mikey started coming over with his cheap haircut and his loud laugh and his unfortunate enjoyment of sportsball games and his stupid use of emojis while texting, and Titus is _right_ back in it.

He had expected a noticeable change in their dynamic. After all, Mikey had been the one who was making money when they were together, and Titus barely had two nickels to rub together. But now he was the breadwinner out of the two of them, and could afford to do things and give things and buy things that had previously been far out of reach. Now, when Mikey is exhausted and hurting from a long week of pouring cement or ripping up cement or churning cement (he really has no idea what construction work really entails), Titus can send him off to his masseuse to help ease the stress. Or when Mikey had a fight with his brothers and is in a horrible mood, he can spring for an extraordinary amount of food from Mikey's favourite Italian restaurant and have it delivered to his apartment. 

But they’re just Mikey-and-Titus again. Even with the extra money and not having to brush the silverfish out of bed before climbing under the sheets, nothing is really different. Mikey still comes over with a bag full of groceries and makes Titus dinner, he still rubs his feet and listens to him complain about every person he's encountered that day. He always puts up a bit of a fuss when Titus tries to throw gifts at him, and offers to pay for his share in everything. 

And Mikey never _asks,_ which is the worst part of it. If he did ask for things, it would be far easier to dismiss him as an ex who came out of the woodwork once he got rich and famous. But Mikey never wants anything from him.

He smiles at all of his dramatic rants and kisses him in the morning before he’s had a chance to brush his teeth. He tells Titus about the sadness that came from his divorce and his fears about never having a family of his own. That he’d started looking into adoption, but even if somebody would trust a single gay man to single-parent a kid, just the initial process alone was far more expensive than he could ever afford on his sole income.

And through it all, he’s unequivocally kind. Even when Titus is stress-binging instant noodles about the latest dumb thing Jacqueline has signed him up for, Mikey ignores his texts to stay away and shows up on his doorstep with a tupperware full of spaghetti, because according to him, if you're going to binge-eat pasta, you might as well do it right. 

And great, now he’s hungry.

Carefully, he slides out of bed, not difficult when they're way too hot and sticky to want a blanket anywhere near them, before sneaking out of Mikey's cave of a bedroom and into the minuscule kitchen.

The fridge is tragically empty, but there’s a startling amount of homemade pasta sauce in his cupboard from his mother, and a bit more scrounging around only reveals free weights that he can’t be bothered to move and some sporting equipment. Which, yuck to all of that.

But tucked away at the very, very bottom of the shelf is a shoebox, and the rustling noise it makes at the cursory shake he gives it means that there’s more than ugly running shoes inside.

The idea that Mikey Politano might have a dirty little secret is exciting, but his fantasies about naughty magazines and a stash of sex shop toys is quickly thrown out the window when he opens the box and finds it’s just his own face staring back at him from the cover of the Playbill from the show the other night, his signature scrawled playfully across the front in black sharpie. _To Michael, from Titus (“Meerkat”) Andromedon._

Not only are there no snacks, but he’s only managed to find a stash of old papers.

But as curiosity gets the better of him and he starts to dig through, he realizes it’s not just old papers at all. It’s playbills, tickets, movie stubs, sometimes dating three, four years back. Worn and creased tickets from _twelve_ different performances of just The Lion King, all from the time of his masterful run as Rafiki.

“Titus?”

Fuck. Mikey is standing in the doorway, looking unfairly cute and rumpled in just his boxers and t-shirt as he rubs at his eyes. “Did you get up to snack? Oh.”

Unsure of what else to say, Titus just holds up a playbill that’s folded open to the cast list page. “Mikey…what is all this?”

“I’m sorry,” he stammers, flushed red to the tip of his ears. “It’s not...I’m not...I’m not a stalker, or anything! It’s not meant to be...creepy. I just…went and saw the stuff you were in, and you were so good. I always knew you’d be good, but you were _really_ good. And you always wanted this, to be successful and seein’ that you actually did it...I was just happy you were happy, you know? Even if you weren’t...happy with me. You’re a good guy, Titus, I wanted to support you, even if we weren’t together anymore.”

Of fucking course Mikey would be genuinely happy for Titus despite the fact that they'd broken up. “So you kept a...Titus box?”

Mikey is sheepish again, not quite able to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I was proud of you, Titus. I don’t even know why I kept all this stuff, I just...you know. It’s like your Ex-Box. Sometimes you just wanna keep a reminder of the things you could’ve had, even if it makes you sad.”

His heart aches, and he pats the worn-out kitchen stool beside him until Mikey shuffles over to take a seat next to him, the contents of the box spread out over the counter between them.

“I totally cried the first time I saw you on stage,” he confesses gently, holding up a faded Lion King ticket stub. “Stupid, I know. It was like...I was watchin’ you get everythin’ you’d ever wanted, you know? I was just so happy for you. I always told you that you’d get there, I knew you were gonna make it. I always knew. And The Lion King, of all shows. That felt like…our thing. Andrew used to get so mad, telling me I was spending way too much money on shows that I’d already seen before. But seein’ you on stage was my favourite thing.”

“Still is, I hope.”

Thankfully, the tension eases, and Mikey turns to grin at him. “I mean, it’s still top five, but now it’s got some tough competition.”

Titus’ eyes drift shut as Mikey leans in to kiss him, so gently and sweetly his heart twists again. When they part, Titus lets himself rest his head on Mikey’s broad shoulder as they continue to sort through the evidence of a moderately successful acting career.

He could just die right here, he realizes. All of his accomplishments lovingly stored and then displayed in front of him, curled up against Mikey Politano in the blistering heat of his apartment. If he didn’t get to live another moment, he’d want his last one to be this one.

Maybe it’s the hunger talking, or because he was lulled into a false sense of security, but before he can stop himself he finds himself saying, “have you ever been to a premiere?”

* * *

“Boy, _what_ are you wearing?”

Mikey frowns and glances down at his outfit. “What? These are my nicest jeans!”

They’ve agreed to meet at seven, by which Titus means seven-forty-five and Mikey takes as six forty-five. He should have known better than to think Mikey wouldn’t be on his doorstep in an entirely inappropriate ensemble way too early. At least they’d have some time to fix this mess. Titus is in Alexander McQueen, for god’s sake, he will not let the delicate beading on his velvet jacket get snagged and ripped off by Mikey’s acrylic monstrosity of a sweater.

“Yes, but you’re wearing _denim._ And not Britney-and-Justin high fashion denim. And are those _sneakers?_ ”

“This is what I wear to the movies! You said you’d get me tickets to your premiere!”

Titus tuts, shaking his head. Leave it to Mikey to fundamentally misunderstand him at the very moment he most needs to be understood. “No, Michael, I said I wanted you to _come to the premiere._ ”

Mikey huffs, throwing up his arms. “That’s the same thing!”

“Come to the premiere as my _date,_ Mikey.”

That shuts him up, at least until he goes pale and starts to sputter. “Date? Like…like as your date? Like…on the red carpet?”

“Green carpet. It was supposed to be red, but….you know what, it’s a long story. But to your other point, yes! Obviously!”

He can hear the clack of Jacqueline’s heels on the floor behind him, and he winces. One look at Mikey in this outfit and she’ll ban him from them being seen together, and this was _not_ how their officially-official reunion was supposed to go. So this is why Mikey had been so casual about agreeing to go to the premiere. He’d assumed he was trying to play it cool, but Mikey hadn’t played it cool since he was still holed up in his heterosexual closet. The stupid man had actually thought Titus had offered to just _get him a ticket_ to his film premiere. If it weren’t so infuriating, it would have been endearing.

“But Titus…then people will _know._ About us.”

He feels a horrible sense of sickness start to build in his gut, and this time it has nothing to do with the burritos he ate for lunch. “Is that not what you want?”

“But won’t people get the wrong idea? I mean, if I go as your date, then won’t they think we’re together? Like, together together?”

He somehow looks so…defeated and hopeful, all at the same time. Titus wants to play coy and joke his way out of it, but Kimmy has been lecturing him for years now about the importance of being vulnerable and learning to trust people and blah blah blah. He’d started tuning her out after the first five seconds.

But even so, there might be something to that, loathe as he was to admit it. If Mikey hadn’t put himself out there, they never would have seen one another again. And he’s never been good at sharing, but maybe this time it’s his turn.

And so Titus gives him a generous eye-roll and sidles closer, resting his hands on either side of Mikey’s strong jaw. “Well, I guess they would think that. I’ve dated a lot of guys. A _lot_ of guys.”

Mikey squirms under his gaze. “I don’t wanna be just another guy you take to a premiere one time, Titus.”

“The thing is…I’ve been dating a lot of bad guys. And you’re actually a good guy.” He’s never been good with this part, the coming-up-with-things-to-say. That’s the best thing about being an actor, not having to put the effort in to actually think up words for himself. He just gets to recite them. But it’s Mikey who had said these things to him, once upon a time, and it remains to this day one of the most romantic things anyone had ever told him. Hopefully it can work in reverse.

And Mikey's eyes light up at the memory of those words, spoken right before their first kiss. “I am a good guy,” Mikey vows, stepping a bit further into his arms. “And...I love you, Titus. Never stopped. And given that, you know, I did give you a second chance when you messed everything up at the beginning-“

“-I did _not_ -“

“-I’m hopin’ you can return the favour and…give me one, too. ‘Cause I know what I got now, Titus. And I won’t forget it again. I want to spend the rest of your life together.”

He tries to bite down the sob that rises in his throat, but he’s never been good at quelling emotion. “Are you sure? ‘Cause black men live to sixty, now.”

Later, when he tells this story to anyone who will listen, he’ll say that he wasn’t sure who moved first, but all of the sudden they’re kissing, Mikey’s hands tight on his waist, his arms flung around Mikey’s shoulders. In reality, it’s Titus who practically launches himself across the small space between them for a very uncoordinated impromptu make-out, and if Mikey didn’t have the wide, balanced stance of someone who had spent a lot of his life using a jackhammer, they very well might have ended up in a heap on the floor.

They’re still on his doorstep, and so Titus takes a fistful of Mikey’s jacket and walks them backwards and into the house, not desperate enough to breathe that he has to bother coming up for air just yet.

“Ugh,” he hears behind him. “Titus, you were supposed to be in the makeup chair ten minutes ago. You need foundation at the very least. Do we want a repeat of the Sliding Doors 2 premiere?”

“ _Shut up,_ Jacqueline,” he hisses against Mikey’s lips.

“Oh no!” And then he’s very _rudely_ removing his tongue from Titus’ mouth and furrowing his brow. “The premiere. You’re in a fancy suit and look at me. I’m gonna embarrass you. I don’t want you to be embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“Okay, first of all, I am never embarrassed to be seen with you unless you’re wearing plaid. Second of all, you came to me when you were just a newly hatched baby gay and needed a makeover for our first date. I am a miracle worker, we’ve established this. Now, let’s see what I’ve got.”

Later, at the premiere, he feels like Julia Roberts in _Notting Hill,_ holding out his hand for Hugh Grant-slash-Mikey as he climbs out of the limo, looking overwhelmed and nervous. But Mikey’s fingers entwine with his and the camera flashes go off and this, Titus thinks, is where he was meant to be, had always been meant to be: in front of adoring fans, smiling for the photographers, Mikey Politano on his arm.

And tomorrow, during his morning routine of drinking leftover champagne in bed and obsessively finding every picture possible on the internet of himself taken the night before, he discovers that he looks amazing in every shot (luckily it was dark by the time the movie ended and the photographers had gone home, or they would have caught him emerging from the theatre looking very mussed after spending most of the run time not actually watching the movie). Mikey, however, despite a not entirely unsuccessful last-minute makeover, looks bad in every single photo. Because Mikey isn’t posing for the cameras or smiling or waving or working his angles. Mikey isn’t looking at the photographers at all. In every image, Mikey is gazing at him like he’s some sort of adoring fan that snuck his way onto the green carpet instead of his date.

Titus is used to people looking at him that way, now that he’s a fabulous movie-slash-Broadway-slash-tv star, but this is different. Because Mikey knows him, truly and deeply knows every dusty crook and creepy skeleton in his labyrinth of a personality, and he still looks at him like he’s the best man in the world.

And despite all of his ridiculousness and dramatic tendencies, for Mikey, Titus will try very hard to be just that. 


End file.
